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Joining the Avengers was the second easiest thing you had ever done. With combat skills that rivaled the Black Widow herself and a precision close to Hawkeye's, all it took was Tony Stark witnessing you take out a group of alien robots, without breaking a sweat, and you were in.
Now the easiest thing you had ever done? Falling in love with Steve Rogers. It was the little things at first, his kind eyes and contagious, bright smile that made your heart flutter and bring out a smile of your own even on your worst days, and his golden heart that always wanted to make sure you felt right at home with the rest of the Avengers. But then you got to know him. His eagerness to do what was right, his passion for drawing, watching movies and talking for hours on end once the screen turned black. His fears, not being able to protect everyone. When nightmares became too much, he always welcomed you at his door late at night with tired eyes, eyebrows furrowed at your shaking, sweat-coated form. His words and a soft, reassuring embrace always brought you back, made you feel safe and warm.
There were times you felt like a nuisance, disrupting Steve's sleep for problems he shouldn't have to care for, but he promised he didn't mind, he'd never mind. And you realised that when you found out you were the only one who had access to his room at every hour of every day. And one night a soft knock at your door stirred you from your sleep, and there stood Steve, panting with tears in his eyes from his own demons that haunted him in his sleep, and you welcomed the super-soldier in his most vulnerable state with open arms and soothing words. You were always there for Steve, and he was always there for you.
The first time it happened was on a mission with Natasha and Steve. It was meant to be quick and easy, follow the suspect and capture him. Except he grew too antsy and held a woman, not much older than yourself, at gun point when he realized the Avengers had been tracking him. With you on the roof of a nearby building as their sniper, Natasha had told you to take the shot. The shot was risky, with a crowd of people surrounding him, and the target was much farther than you've had experience sniping with, and you hesitated before you shot. That one second of doubt is what got the woman killed; the target pulled his trigger before you pulled yours.
You've had your fair share of panic attacks before, so you knew when one was coming. Back on the quinjet, Steve and Natasha tried to convince you it wasn't your fault, but their pleas fell on deaf ears as you stared numbly at the floor, thoughts racing a mile a minute. Steve picked up on the change of your demeanor immediately, you'd never acted this way in front of him before. So when you excused yourself as soon as the quinjet landed, and all but ran to your room, he followed you. His heart broke at the sight of your trembling body, collapsed on the floor of your bedroom with tears streaming down your face, clutching your chest as you struggled to get a gasp of air in your lungs. He fell to his knees and cupped your face in his hands, forcing you to face him.
"Shh, shh, I got you," he soothed. He breathed in and out slowly, waiting for you to follow his lead. And his beautiful blue eyes was what did it for you, filled with concern and something else you couldn't quite pinpoint but it made you feel safe, and made your head spin with how fast it calmed you. You followed his breathing with stuttering breaths and closed your eyes as he pressed his forehead against your own. You licked your lips, your tears leaving a salty taste, as you listened to his words. "I'm here. I'm right here." One of his hands found its way into your own, and he gave it a gentle squeeze as he stroked your cheek with his thumb, as if to make you aware that his words held nothing but truth. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay. I promise," he whispered.
You talked about everything and nothing that night, anything to get your mind off of it. And when you were ready, Steve held you in his arms as you cried and cried because you felt responsible for that innocent woman's death. Nothing but gentle reassurances and words of encouragement and understanding were spoken the rest of the night. And in the morning, when both you and Steve had woken up in your bed, facing each other, you had your first kiss.
The second time it happened was in the middle of a forest outside of a Hydra base. You and Steve had infiltrated the base and had taken out groups of Hydra personnel before Steve ran ahead, eager to protect you and finish the mission. That was his greatest strength, yet his biggest weakness, you believed, he cared about everyone's safety before his own. Footsteps echoed behind you, and you reacted quick as you ducked, and swept your leg out, knocking the man onto his back. You stomped on his wrist and heard a crack as he cried out and released the gun, bending forward, you placed both hands on his upper arm and dislocated his shoulder, rendering his dominant hand useless.
"No, please!" He cried out. You kicked the gun away and stood back, eyes squinted at the man in front of you. He sat up, clutching onto his arm. "The whole place is rigged to blow. Please, let me go."
And then it hit you, how easy it was for you and Steve to enter. The few goons you two ran into that were way too easy to defeat. It was a trap. Tapping into the comms, you ran through the base. "Captain, get the fuck out of there. This place is wired to blow!" You tried to look for him, searching every corner, only to come up empty. "Steve!" you pleaded.
Finally, he answered over the comms. "Understood, Y/N," he answered, slightly out of breath. "Get out. I'll be right there."
And you didn't even hesitate to find an exit and make your way into the forest outside. "Captain?" you yelled out, searching around for the familiar head of blond hair and striking blue eyes. "Steve!" Before you could call out to him a third time, the entire base blew up, and you fell to the ground. Standing up on shaky legs, hands pressed to your ringing ears, you examined where the building once stood, now nothing left but rubble, smoke, and fire in the aftermath. You were quick to tap into the comms again. With a shaky voice, you whispered, "Steve?" Only to receive no response. "Please," you begged. "Please, no!" you cried out.
You were an idiot to leave him behind. You could've helped him, and you both could've gotten to safety together. Instead, you were foolish enough to believe Steve wouldn't run into any trouble, that he'd get out in time, when he could've gotten out faster if you were just there with him. And now... Now he might be gone. The blame, the thought of never waking up in his arms ever again, never being able to kiss him, never even telling him how much you loved him, it became too much, and you found yourself on your knees. Hands clutching on to the dew-covered grass, as you struggled to find your breath.
A set of arms encircled around your waist as someone turned you around. And there were those beautiful blue eyes you thought you'd never see again. One hand clutched in your own, and another cupping your face. "Shh, I got you, baby. I'm here. I'm right here." A squeeze and the rubbing of his thumb against your cheek. In and out, he breathed for you. In and out. In and out. Blue eyes filled with concern and love, you finally realized all those nights ago. "It's okay, doll. It's gonna be okay. I promise."
And when you finally could breathe again, you kissed him with everything in you. And you told him you loved him for the first time over and over again and cried when he said it back.
The third time it happened was when the Avengers fell apart. Steve found Bucky and caused tension between Tony and himself. He promised you Bucky didn't do anything, and that anything Bucky had done had been under the influence of Hydra. The Winter Soldier wasn't Bucky, not the Bucky he knew, the Bucky that came back to him when he saved Steve's life. And you believed him because you trusted him with every fiber of your being. After the Sokovia Accords was introduced, you refused to take sides, and although a little upset, Steve understood because the Avengers were the only family you had left, and you hated to see it divided.
So when Steve had come back to you, shieldless, bruised and bleeding, claiming the Avengers were no more, you couldn't help your mind from racing. What did this mean for your family? For Tony? For Steve? Would you ever see any of them ever again? Your breath escaped you yet again, and you clutched on to Steve because you felt lost and confused. After 2 years of being with the Avengers, being with Steve, it's all you knew. What did this mean for you?
An instinct now, Steve cupped your cheek and clutched your hand. Blue eyes staring into your own. "Shh, doll. I got you. I've always got you." In and out. "I'm right here." A squeeze and a kiss on your forehead. In and out. "It's gonna be okay." He spoke clearly and forcefully because you needed to hear that more than anything right now. "I promise you, sweetheart. It's gonna be okay."
And as you both held each other and cried because things were never meant to go as far as they did, you realized that as long as you had Steve, you'd be fine because although the Avengers were your family, Steve was your home.
.
.
.
.
.
Two years had passed, and you had been in hiding with Steve ever since. There was the occasional visit to Wakanda to see Steve's oldest friend, Bucky, but you were never allowed to remain in one place for too long. Two years of running and a new threat had emerged, one bigger than any superhero had ever faced, the Avengers toughest villain yet: Thanos. You stood alongside Steve, Bucky, T'Challa, Okoye and many other heroes as you desperately fought against the Black Order and their giant army.
All it took was one glance, eager to find a head of blond hair and piercing blue eyes, one moments distraction for Proxima Midnight to use the split second of weakness to pierce you with her spear. She barely acknowledged you, moving swiftly on to another battle as if you were as inconvenient as an annoying mosquito.
You only felt pain for the second she stabbed you and removed her spear. It felt numb afterward, but you could feel yourself grow weak as you fell to your knees, no longer able to support yourself.
You could faintly hear Bucky call for Steve as he watched the blood pour out of your wound, but the battle around you became background noise as you clutched your stomach, hands quickly drenched in red. Your ears were ringing, and just as you were about to fall forward, a pair of strong arms caught you before you felt yourself being lifted up.
Steve ran into the woods, anxious to get you somewhere safe. He laid you in his lap, sitting against a tree, eyes wild and frantic as he pressed his hand against the gaping wound in your abdomen, anything to stop the amount of blood that was leaving your body.
You gazed up at his face, beautiful as ever, with hooded eyes, trying your hardest to stay awake and enjoy your final moment with the love of your life.
"I-I... I c-can't," Steve murmured, voice breaking and tears falling at the sight of you. "Not you," he whispered. His breath was leaving him and his eyes were filled with fear as he searched everywhere to find something, anything to help you.
You recognized the signs immediately, suspicions confirmed when his chest began rising and falling quickly, body trembling, as Steve gasped, trying his hardest to get air into his lungs.
And so you lifted a shaky hand up to his cheek, ignoring the way it stained his face red. "Shh," you whispered. "I got... you," reciting the words he'd told you many times before. You breathed in and out for him, like he'd done for you all those moments before. He watched you with sad eyes, but he followed your breathing with stuttering gasps and ignored the way you wheezed, as if breathing was becoming harder and harder for you.
You placed your other hand over his, against your wound, squeezing with the last bit of strength you had. "I'm," you inhaled shakily, "right h-here." Your movements were slow and weak, removing your hand from his cheek and kissing your pointer and middle finger before bringing them to his sweat-coated forehead. "Y-You... Y-You'll be... okay. I p-promise," you uttered, voice breaking and your own tears beginning to show and match his own at the thought of never seeing Steve again. But he didn't need to know how much it pained you to be a part from him, he needed to be reassured that his life would go on, that he would be okay, like he reassured you many times before.
Your hands fell limply as you felt your life slipping away. "Breathe for me, baby," you whispered, Steve choking on a sob. "I love you."
And when he took his first breath, you took your last.